


Lessons Learned

by sfmpco



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:44:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfmpco/pseuds/sfmpco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Billy steals from Mrs. Hudson, it is Sherlock he must face to deal with the consequences.  What Sherlock learns, however, is far more valuable.  Based on the portrayals in THE ABOMINABLE BRIDE but pre-TAB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why this little one-shot came to me, but here it is. Probably just that I never see Sherlock as uncaring, even in Victorian times. Yes, I know the Victorian thing was all a drug-addled dream, but if it wasn't, this is how I see things.

Sherlock looked down at Billy. “Empty your pockets.”

Billy hesitated, then dug into his pockets and laid the miscellaneous contents on Sherlock’s tea table.  A couple of marbles, a wrapped half-eaten sweetie, a bit of string, a worn half penny, an odd rock.  Something about the boy’s demeanor still didn’t set right with Sherlock, however.

“Billy, you are the house boy, and I have to be able to trust the people I employ.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes.”

“Where have you put Mrs. Hudson’s £1 note?”

“I didn’t take it, sir.”

“Billy.”

Sherlock’s voice was completely stern.  He knew the boy was lying, and Billy shuffled his feet for a moment before he reached down to his shoe and removed the folded £1 note and handed it to Sherlock, but he wouldn’t look him in the eye.  Sherlock handed the pound note to Mrs. Hudson.  “There you are. Do you want to handle it from here, Mrs. Hudson, or shall I?” 

Mrs. Hudson glanced at the boy.  She was angry, but she felt a bit of sympathy for him knowing what was possibly coming.  “Not too hard, Mr. Holmes. He’s just a lad.”

She turned away and went back down the stairs, and Sherlock turned his attention back to Billy whose eyes had already filled with tears, and his breathing was a little rapid with fear.  “There will be no thievery in this house, and I abhor lying.”

“I’m sorry sir.  I won’t happen again.”

“Oh we shall quite make certain of that.  If you wish to continue in my employ, you will take your punishment.  If you do not wish to take your punishment, you will leave this house immediately and never return.  What say you?”

He gulped and his tears spilled. “Please, Mr. Holmes.  I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re afraid of the pain you’re about to receive. We shall discuss your repentance afterwards.“  He had disciplined Billy once before with a firm swat to the boy’s bottom when Billy had issued a swear word in front of a female client.  This, however, was an entirely different scenario.  Sherlock walked back to his bedroom, could be heard rummaging around, and he returned with a thin, flexible schoolmaster’s cane which he sliced through the air a few times for effect. 

“Trousers and pants down below your buttocks. Do not put your hands in the way or they may get injured, and there is no point in that.”

Billy began to cry softly as he lowered his trousers and pants.

“Pull up your shirt.” Sherlock said, and the boy hiked up his shirt to expose his bottom .  Raising the shirt also exposed the bruises from a terrible beating he’d recently received, likely from a belt, as well as how thin he was beneath his shirt.  He was on the verge of emaciated with every vertebrae and rib showing.  Sherlock gasped and immediately tossed the cane aside.  “Pull up your trousers, son.” He said softly.

Sherlock walked to the door and yelled down the stairs, “Mrs. Hudson!  I’ll have my lunch now and make it a triple portion!”

Billy pulled up his trousers and fastened them, then tucked in his shirt, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve as he continued to sniffle.  Sherlock sat down in his chair and motioned the boy to him. “Billy, what happens to the money I pay you?”

“I gives it to me dad, sir. He says I’ve got no need of it. ”  He said.  He was about to wipe his nose on his sleeve again, but Sherlock handed him a clean handkerchief. 

“And then what becomes of it?” Sherlock asked.

Billy’s eyes focused on the carpet, but Sherlock lifted the child’s chin so that their eyes met. “He’s in the pub every night, sir.”

“Is he the one who beat you?”

Sherlock already suspected the answer but wanted the child to confirm it.

Clearly to reveal such information was distressing to the boy, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks gave Sherlock the needed answer. “He’s awful mean when he’s drunk, sir. He took after me mum, and I tried to stop him but I couldn’t.  And then he took after me. We’ve got nothing to eat. I just wanted to buy some food, sir.  I’m sorry! Please don't send me away!” He was overcome with his tears, and Sherlock suddenly pulled the child into his lap and wrapped his arms gently around him.  Billy sobbed brokenly into Sherlock’s dressing gown, and Sherlock did his best to comfort the boy. He knew it would be inappropriate to tell him simply that he should “have courage,” because courage against a foe as formidable as a drunken father was not something any young boy should have to face.

“All emotion is abhorrent to me” was not entirely true despite the façade he tried to maintain.   He had great compassion for Billy and now an ignited rage towards the boy’s father.  He would have Lestrade look into the situation, but if the wife didn’t contest, there was nothing to investigate.  Even if she sought divorce, the courts would not award her custody of the child since she was not the main source of income.  It was a man’s world in the home, politics, government and law.  Lestrade could, however, possibly have the man held long enough to dry him out and give him a bit of hell.  As for Billy, he would help the child to open a bank account that he would co-sign making the funds unavailable to the father. “Your earnings you will put into the bank, and I will give you a small allowance on top of that which you may spend as you like,” he said.

He was still comforting Billy when Mrs. Hudson brought up a tray of sandwiches twenty minutes later, but he had the boy stand up then. “Billy, you’ll not take from Mrs. Hudson again, will you?”

“No, sir.” He said. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hudson.”

Sherlock stood up next to Billy and put his hand on the boy’s back.  “There, it’s all settled, and we won’t speak of it again as if it never happened.  Now, Mrs. Hudson, Billy is a growing boy, and we should see to it that he is fed properly while he is here during the day.  I’d like him fed when he comes in first thing in the morning, lunch, and tea time.  And any other time he requires. And send him home with something as well.”

Mrs. Hudson wasn’t entirely certain what had happened between the two, but the matter of thievery was settled as far as she was concerned also.

Sherlock removed a £1 note from his pocket at handed it to Billy. “Mrs. Hudson will give you list of what to purchase so that we can make certain your belly is full, but first let’s eat.”

There was never again a moment of disloyalty from the boy, and young Billy’s admiration for the great detective only waxed from that day, for not only did he see Sherlock as an ally but also as the father he should have had but didn’t.


End file.
